


Unexpected Destination

by somanyopentabs



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Awkward Crush, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 06:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4294194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyopentabs/pseuds/somanyopentabs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an angsty Remix of another fic: Same Destination by protectginozasquad.</p>
<p>Non-Sybil AU. Ginoza and Tsunemori are out of the country for an international criminal investigation conference. Their flight home gets delayed to due bad weather, and they get put up in a hotel, with ONLY ONE BED. Angst. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Destination

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Same Destination](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4123203) by [protectginozasquad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/protectginozasquad/pseuds/protectginozasquad). 



> In my remix, the story takes place only a couple weeks after Masaoka has died protecting Ginoza. Hence why my Ginoza is extra sad and depressed. (Unlike in canon where we only see him after he's had plenty of time to grieve.

Ginoza was doing math in his head. Not the calculus and trigonometry he’d passed with flying colors in school. This equation was much more troubling.

There was one bed in the room. There was no getting around it. One bed, and two people. One bed and two top-of-their-field detectives.

One bed, one calm Tsunemori Akane, and one Ginoza Nobuchika who was rapidly descending into panic mode.

“Uh, Tsunemori,” he said, “What are we going to do?”

Tsunemori’s small mouth was set in a slight frown.

“Well, I could always call the front desk,” she sighed, sounding irritated. 

Ginoza’s heart stuttered in his chest. She’d been through so much already. The trip back wasn’t supposed to be so stressful. What could he ever do to ease her weariness?

“It’s not like we’ll be here long,” he offered. “We could make the most of it?”

The look of relief on her face let him know he’d made the right decision. She was too tired to bother with trivialities like this after the case they’d finished up.

“Would you like the first shower?” Tsunemori asked, setting her bag down on the ugly carpet of the hotel room floor.

“No, you go first. I insist,” Ginoza said. He needed time to figure out a plan. Would he sleep on the floor? Perhaps he could get the hotel staff to bring up a fold-out cot. Or there was a small couch near the window.

Tsunemori made her way to the bathroom and shut the door. The sound of the shower starting up followed soon after.

His partner never took long showers, something that he’d noted during this trip spent in close quarters. As much as her head seemed to be in the clouds at times, she was efficient, and to the point in many aspects of her life. 

They’d been sharing hotel rooms with twin beds for about a week now. He’d wondered if his heart would waver, seeing her every day like this. But it only served to do the opposite. The feelings he’d been growing for her for the past couple years only blossomed and bloomed further, making his heart beat even faster when he heard the water stop.

“Your turn,” Tsunemori called when she exited the bathroom in her simple yellow pajama top and bottoms.

Ginoza averted his eyes and went in quickly. Maybe he could stall forever. Maybe he could fall asleep in the bathtub, like they did in movies.

He disrobed and entered the shower, avoiding the mirror like he always did. Why was he such a coward, that he couldn’t even face himself?

He didn’t wear his glasses anymore; he’d even cut his bangs much shorter. But to look himself in the eyes when he felt like this? The thought was nearly unbearable.

He felt like he was betraying his partner. Wasn’t it the worst sort of lie, concealing his feelings while sharing a room? 

It was wrong of him, and he’d have to come clean, he thought ironically, while washing his hair.

He finished up and got dressed, still not daring to wear short sleeves around his partner. He wore a long sweater and a pair of shorts, and stepped out of the bathroom.

Tsunemori was in bed already, the thin hotel coverlets pulled up to her chest.

“It’s actually not a bad mattress,” Tsunemori said, looking up from her phone. “We might get a decent night’s sleep.”

“I hope you do,” Ginoza said. “I was going to walk down to the front desk and see if they had a cot they could bring up.”

Tsunemori’s expression turned curious. “I thought you were too tired for all that? Why not just come over here? There’s plenty of room.”

“The shower was refreshing enough. I can go down. It’s no trouble to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Ginoza?”

Ginoza halted in his steps to the door. “Yes?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re really thinking?”

Ginoza shook his head. He should tell her. She had every right to know. They were partners—they shared everything. Their grief over the loss of their coworkers. The loss of members of their families. Every case, every stress, every day.

“I’m not sure it’s appropriate. For me to share your bed, I mean.”

“Well, for one thing, it’s only a hotel bed. It’s not that personal.”

“But if it were?” Ginoza turned to face her at last. “If it were personal?”

“That’s not something we’ve ever talked about,” Tsunemori answered cautiously.

She was right. They’d never talked about their feelings, or lack-thereof, for each other.

“I know. And, well, I never wanted to hide anything from you,” he admitted, his voice weaker than he wanted it to be.

“I always thought you’d tell me when you were ready.”

Ginoza took a deep breath. She was his partner. He trusted her with his life.

But there was so much he couldn’t say. He’d never felt this way for anyone before. He was so very, very inexperienced.

“Is it wrong, if I’m not ready for a while longer?” he asked. Yes, he was asking permission not to tell, not to bare his soul. If he was a braver man, he might. He could hold her in his arms, even with the prosthetic. He could tell her every last pathetic dream he’d had.

Tsunemori nodded. She was so kind. The kindest person he’d ever known.

“It’s only a bed, Ginoza. Come lie down.”

The thudding inside his chest slowed and calmed. It was only a bed. It was only a bed, and he was only a man.

The equation was simple after all.

“I don’t mean to complicate things for you,” Ginoza said, laying his head on a pillow.

Tsunemori turned off the light next to the bed.

“Out of all the cases we’ve seen—well. You’re not complicated. You’re my partner.”

Ginoza pressed his cheek to the pillow, facing away from the other detective. “Tsunemori?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For--,” he stopped there, and started again, “At his funeral. It meant a lot to me.”

“I miss Masaoka, too,” she said.

Tears started to well up in the corners of Ginoza’s eyes, making him glad he was facing away.

“You’re the only one who really understood,” he said, keeping his voice level. “No one else there really knew.”

“And we won’t let him be forgotten.”

Ginoza didn’t want to cry, so he willed the tears to stop. He wanted to laugh, instead. He wanted to be the kind of son his father always wanted him to be.

But his father had loved him. He wouldn’t be forgotten, not in a hundred thousand years. He’d tell the story. He’d remember.

“Won’t you get some rest now, Ginoza?” Tsunemori said, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder.

She’d held him at the funeral, tight in her deceptively strong arms. She hadn’t let go for anything. She’d told him to cry, to let himself grieve. She’d told them they could be embarrassed later if they wanted, but for right now, they were free.

Ginoza closed his eyes, and let himself stop worrying for long enough to sleep.


End file.
